Searching for Silver
by Blissful-Web
Summary: Sequel to Look Away. Living without a sky. Replacing the irreplaceable.
1. Searching for Silver: Shuhei

A/N: I've been toying with the idea of a sequel for Look Away for some time now and one day I finally sat my ass down and planned out what I was going to do for it. It will mostly center around Rangiku's various other pairings that are popular with fans. (The plausible ones of course!)

Don't worry though, Gin will show up too!

And just so it's clear, this will be a multi-chapter fic, unlike the first. I'll try to pump out updates as soon as possible too.

**Warning: **A few vague sex scenes.

That was your warning right there! So if you got nothing against it, please enjoy!

And remember folks, R&R!

**Disclaimer****:** Observe the slow and basically non-existent GinRan action that has taken place in the pass few chapters. Would I really let that happen if I owned Bleach?

* * *

_Searching For Silver_

_She use to think the world would've ended without a sky._

_Now she knows she's wrong, because the sky is long gone._

_And she simply turns her head and looks away, so in her mind, the sky is still there and the world is still as brilliant and vast and tiring as before._

_When it came to running away, she's been taught only by the best._

_---_

It is amazing to Rangiku, how time can simply fly when you're happy, when you never want it to end, or perhaps just to last long enough for everything to imprint forever inside you. And then it just ends all the faster.

Life is so cruel sometimes it's practically ridiculous.

She doesn't have many of those happy moments with him. In fact, she can count on one hand the number of times they've been genuinely happy.

He just hadn't loved her enough, as much as he had wanted to.

But like any other addiction, she'd come back for more and he'd indulged her. Or had it been the other way around? Not that she remembers, or cares to, it didn't matter anymore.

Because at the end of their full circle, all Rangiku has is a bunch of sad and sickening moments with terribly desperate grins and a numb regret. She holds onto them like a flimsy rope, barely supporting her from a deep dive off a cliff and into its white mist.

And even these moments go by too fast, with too many unspoken words and too many lies and too many questions that all started with _Why? Why? Why?_

Until he is suddenly there no more and she is alone, with nothing but a few lingering words to fill the spot he has vacated for the final time.

---

She watches from the sidelines as Soul Society draws closer to the very threshold of chaos.

The place is now nothing but a disorganized heap of mistrust, grief, and drunken misery. It is no longer the pristine white walls, glorious warriors, and everything that Rukongai people wished they could become but knew they couldn't.

Honestly, she is kind of surprised the balance of the two worlds has not gone askew yet.

It's still strange and almost fascinating in a way, that Aizen, a single man with a merciless mind had been strong enough to crush them all, like a true god stepping on bugs.

She can't help but feel sometimes that if it hadn't been for Tousen, with his artificial ideals and obsessive sense of self-righteousness, then maybe it would've been different.

She can't help but feel that if it hadn't been for _him_, with his frenetic smiles, cruel daydreams, his ravenous fears, then maybe Aizen would've been caught and slaughtered like an animal long before.

Sometimes, Rangiku wonders what their lives would've been like with Aizen if people like Tousen and _him_ didn't exist in the first place.

But she is too selfish to agree that it would've been far better without him, even if it would've been.

---

Hitsugaya sits uncomfortably, his long legs looking rather cramp under the tiny desk that had been customized for him long ago.

He is writing furiously upon a poor, abused piece of parchment, his brush dancing non-stop as it spread black ink strokes across the scroll.

Her captain has been working like he'd just downed five glasses of pure caffeine and adrenaline.

She isn't sure he's even gotten up from his seat yet, since the last time she saw him sit down, which had been in the morning three days ago.

"I think you should take a break, Taichou." She tells him, from her sprawled position on her couch.

"Well, if _you_ just helped me out a little, I could." Hitsugaya snaps back almost immediately, not even bothering to look up from his work.

"What? But there's so much!"

"More the reason for you to _help_ me."

"Don't you get tired of seeing paperwork all the time, Taichou?"

"It doesn't matter if I get tired of it or not. It's just part of my life."

"Life isn't all about work you know," she is quick to reply, realizing a little too late how easy it had been to slip back into their innocent banter, realizing a little too late how _ironic _she had sounded.

Hitsugaya stops for a second, brush frozen an inch above the paper and sends her a darting glance with his cold teal eyes.

"Life isn't about much these days."

And there's no words to push back on his as they invade the room, slowly slicing apart the microscopic stitches Rangiku had been making on her heart. Her captain is right, and if it had been before Rangiku would've disagreed, disagreed so badly.

Now she says nothing, because her captain is _right_, just like he always has been.

---

It is two weeks after the sky has fallen that Shuhei comes to her.

Rangiku more or less senses him than sees him and heads soundlessly to the door, without uttering a word to Hitsugaya, who no longer needs words to know where she is going anyway.

He is a long lithe shadow, walking through the permanent darkness. In his arms is a small box that looks rather wimpy around Shuhei's toned muscles. For some reason, she catches it before anything else.

Shuhei's face is carefully blank, his handsome features unmarred by a single facial emotion. As Rangiku leans patiently against the jamb of the sliding door, she takes a moment to draw him in, like she's suddenly seeing him again for the first time.

His hair is now a little shorter than before. His muscles are rock hard and even more pronounced. His eyes are still narrow and black, but already altered harshly by betrayal and stress.

He has not changed much.

"What are you doing here?" she asks him, as soon as he's within hearing range.

Shuhei doesn't reply until he has moved close enough to be standing right in front of her. Rangiku has to try hard not to look away, just like with everything else she has been doing so far.

He holds out the box rather contemptuously with one hand, like he would've loved to see nothing more than for it to all burn into oblivion.

"Kira said you might want this," Shuhei's deep voice is rather twisted with his forced blankness and not-so-subtle hatred.

Rangiku has to blink and stare for a moment before she can even remember who Kira was anymore. And when she does, she immediately wishes she hadn't.

Slowly, with not so inconspicuously shaking hands, she reaches out for the box, until her fingers have touched it's surface and brushed lightly against the tip of Shuhei's hands.

They stare at each other a moment, both too old to blush and almost too tired to care. Slowly, Shuhei lets his big hands fall from it.

Her cerulean eyes travel south from his and to the open box in her hands. She stares for a moment at the white haori inside, folded up neat and proper.

It has a large kanji 'Three' on the back.

And before her mind can start to form thoughts, can even _begin _to comprehend, her body is already moving.

Rangiku's hand falls to the coat and unfurls it without a word. It opens with a light 'swish' of soft fabric against air. The box falls with a dull thud.

She doesn't notice.

She doesn't notice when Shuhei's face has twisted suddenly, into something that aches, that has been starved for too long. She doesn't notice when his eyes go flat and his fists clench.

She certainly doesn't notice, when he spun around and walked briskly away.

All she can see is the open haori in her fingers, white cloth pouring down her front.

And even if hewas not there, she can almost picture him well enough to believe that he was. Her callous hands clench around the haori, rumpling the kanji 'Three.'

She closes her eyes and remembers pale fingers and sharp nips along the nape of her neck. And it hurts so much that it almost feels good.

---

She curls up that night with the haori, buries herself inside the soft, soft fabric.

There is just the faintest scent of jasmine deep within the fold of the coat that Rangiku attempts, no matter how meaninglessly, to drown herself in.

And there he might suddenly be, with his grinning face and bony wrists lying next to her, just as weak and dying as he was before. He's placing his terrifying hands all over her, closing wounds and tearing them apart again.

He grins, his face whiter than the moon. It's filled with satisfaction, sadism, a glimpse of buried affection.

_Are you afraid…?_

She ignores him, his stupid lilting voice, that's still stuck in her head, even when he has gone. Long pale arms twist around her shoulders, drawing her in until she doesn't feel the haori underneath her, but another heartbeat pounding endlessly.

The pain is still there, a gaping hole inside that only grows bigger and bigger.

She wants to say something, scream, yell, anything really. But she can't, because even with her lies, her mind is still her mind and she knows he won't hear her.

He won't hear any of the words that she has waited centuries to say.

_Are you afraid of living without me?_

His voice is full of amusement, of ease, and still the tiny glimmer of fear is weaved inside like a stain. But she still hears him, effortlessly, easily, _painfully_.

She folds herself against his chest (that's not there, and yet still there) closes her eyes and breathes in quick. The scent of jasmine is still fading and dull, but she feels it sharply.

Rangiku doesn't dare look up. Terrified that her mind would waver and then this pretty little illusion, that she has worked so hard to conjure up would diminish instantly.

Instead, she only imagines his face—all sharp lines and silver and slits of crimson red. (Amused, enigmatic, and blood-splattered).

It is all she remembers him by now, and she almost felt like crying.

That hadn't been the face that she wanted to see. It had _never_ been what she wanted to see. And yet, it is all that she wants now, desires, practically _lusts _after.

She weaves a hand around him, eyes still closed, and feels the bone of shoulders, broad but protruding. She feels the sinew of his arms, still lean, but more than a little thin now. Then she makes the mistake of imagining the touch of his hands.

His fingers are just cold and limp and unresponsive.

Rangiku can't imagine his hands, can _never_ imagine what things he could do with those spider-like hands.

And suddenly, all that fills her mind is his face. Eyes closed, rubies hidden, pale skin pearly and tinted with yellow.

Lying there, _on that white bed_.

Instantly, the heartbeat is gone, the face is gone, _everything_ is gone. And she is left like this, throwing herself in the swallowing haori, the only thing tangible about him.

It's not enough.

_Gin is a drug that she cannot give up, even when he himself was no longer there._

---

She volunteers to go deliver paperwork to the 9th division.

Hitsugaya glances at her suspiciously, like the gazes that he used to give her all those years ago, as they both raised their blades to Aizen and his pert smiling face. He looks like he wants to ask her why, but he thankfully doesn't.

Instead, he simply nods and hands her the stack of papers. She receives them almost gratefully and walks calmly to the door. Her captain's piercing stare is still drilling into her back as she slid the door close with a tiny sigh of relief.

She dashes for the Ninth Division.

It didn't take long, but when she got there Shuhei is already waiting. His arms are folded across his chest, his sleeveless shihakusho showing off his rippling muscles. A sense of déjà vu comes over her.

"Hello, Rangiku-san," he said softy, his voice deep and low, nothing like _his_ voice, "What can I do for you?"

She walks up to him slowly and numbly passes the papers over.

He receives them with an arch of his perfect eyebrows. She stood there waiting as he flipped through them, murmuring a sound of realization, before quietly calling over his shoulder. In an instant, a young boy comes forth; whom she hadn't even realized was there.

Shuhei mutters something to him that makes the boy's charcoal eyes widen and he quickly nods. Taking the stack of papers, Shuhei dumps them into the boy's already raised arms. The boy then bowed twice and quickly scurried away.

Rangiku sends Shuhei a confused look.

"Those were request letters again from Yamamoto-soutaichou," Shuhei explains, eyes looking somewhere to her left, "He wants to appoint a new Ninth Division Captain as soon as possible."

She stares at him, "Why don't you just accept then? You'll do great as a Captain."

Shuhei looks like he wants to agree, but says instead, "I can't."

"What do you mean? Of course you can. You just write a reply back telling him you—"

"I can't," he cuts into her enthusiastic words, "It's not the same."

His head bows a bit in shame at her incredulous stare.

And that was when Rangiku caught a glimpse behind Shuhei of a man with brown skin and milky eyes who spoke heavily and thoughtfully. It was when she noticed those brown hands placed ever so snugly on Shuhei's shoulders, weighing on him, the mouth still spouting teachings of betrayal and blind devotion.

"Well," Shuhei squirms slightly at the intensity of her gaze, "Was there anything else you need of me?"

She studies him for a moment longer, before nodding.

"I do need something from you," she says, "Something you might hate me for."

She saunters up to him slowly, slender arms grazing the bulge of his bicep. He stares at her with wide eyes that seem too innocent for a man who has gone through so much. She loosens her collar gently, revealing her peachy breasts even more from the cloth. Shuhei's face is full of shock and he swallows continuously.

"I-is it something only I can give you?" he chokes back, voice hopeful.

A caustic feeling sinks into her stomach as she hears the pure breaking excitement in his voice.

With a slight toss of her orange hair he is at her feet, more than willing and more than eager. She silently curses herself and wishes that when this was over, he would be disgusted enough to never want to see her again.

But she is not Gin, and neither has the heart nor the selflessness to lie to him.

"No, I could get it from anyone," she speaks to him honestly and watches his face fall and fall and fall, "I prefer you though."

It is all it takes for him to agree with a wordless nod.

His eyes are hard like rocks, comprehending her reasons quite easily. He had come to her after all, with her lover's legacy in a cardboard box, ready for her to open and to be consumed.

For a moment, she wants to take it back so badly that the words are practically on the tip of her tongue. But then she remembers Gin's idiot face with his glistening silver hair and long pale fingers and she doesn't.

---

The days fly for her in between the blinks. She barely notices and cares even less. She spends them sleeping, drinking, and helping her captain with paperwork. (It's rather funny and a little touching to see Hitsugaya look so uncomfortable with her help after nagging so long for it).

It didn't matter for her whatever she did. It was the nights that she craved the most.

Those nights where the sky is darker than the dark it is by day and she slips through her door, like threads that waft and heads to the place where he is waiting.

And he waits. He is in his room, just there, with his arms always crossed.

She rushes up without a greeting, without a word, without a sound. She throws her arms around him like vines and kisses him on the neck. _Once, twice, three times._

He brings her down slowly, still a little hesitant, but willing.

His long hands tangle with her hakama as she grabs his sword from his waist and lets it sail farther and farther away. She rips her shihakusho open and bares her breasts to him, until he can work out the knot.

Then it is wild and sweaty and very empty.

She trails callous hands across his abs, feels the muscles pulling and stretching as he grunts from above her. Rangiku closes her eyes and imagines and imagines.

Pale skin and red eyes and hands that moved in and out of her over and over.

He arches his back until his spine feels like it's about to break. She locks her legs around his hips and her arms around his neck and beckons for him to push harder. (_It's not right yet. Keep going. It still doesn't feel __**right**__)_.

She runs fingers into his sweat soaked hair as he sucks her at her collarbone. Rangiku thinks of silver locks instead of jet black ones. She thinks of frigid and white skin instead of hot and tanned.

His tongue works along her as her thighs clench unreasonably and her ankles feel cold against him. A sigh rushes out of her, filled with pleasure and pain and guilt.

Shuhei moves on his own and his fingers have their own special magic. So for now it is enough for Rangiku.

She is not satisfied, but it is enough.

---

He thinks she's beautiful.

He has thought it since the day he's met her—all happy and bubbly and filled with fire. Warm to the eyes to look at and sweetly scented. She smiled at him with casualty and it made his heart explode in the process.

But it was not him that she graced with her love, spicy like cinnamon and hearty like chrysanthemums. It was a man with slit eyes and silver hair and spider fingers—a man that she had loved.

Shuhei has wanted that.

It is a desperate want that chokes him dry of air and makes him wilt like a weed against the ruthless wind.

So when she comes to him, hair uncombed, eyes smudged with black, and still freakishly beautiful, he agrees without thinking. _Which he does afterwards and finds he doesn't care anyway._

Then she is under him, with a face that is tired and excited and waiting. Shuhei takes his moment to look and think and know that she would never be here at all if that silver man had not walked away and never came back.

He never thought she would be here. Not even in his dreams.

Rangiku bears her assets like gifts as he greedily and despondently takes them. He reaches far inside her to take and give back and keep.

It is still empty and overworking in a way as he looks into her crystal eyes and does not see himself reflecting in them, but a face that grinned and laughed. It disgusts him, but only so slightly.

---

He tries to kiss her every night.

She pushes him away every time with rough hands that smell of cinnamon trees and gives him a weary look.

It is these little things that bother her to a great amount.

They are so gentle and compassionate and loving that she wants to cry again, because Gin never did these things and now she wishes that Shuhei would stop too.

But he doesn't and each night he tries and tries. It is ultimately how she thinks, that they will end and fail.

---

More letters come from Yamamoto, endlessly and endlessly.

Rangiku laughs lightly at Shuhei's predicament, but doesn't say anything else.

"_I can't be Captain," _he shakes his head as if he was agreeing with himself, _"I can't be. Not for this place_."

She moves softly to his side and presses her hands to his shoulders where Tousen still stood, gazing at her with his blank eyes.

---

She asks her captain about the letters next time.

Hitsugaya gives her a raised eyebrow and a careless shrug.

"Soutaichou wants Hisagi to be the next Ninth Division Captain. He's the only candidate."

"He doesn't want the position though."

"I doubt it matters," Hitsugaya stands from his chair to stretch his arms in a series of cracks, "He'll agree sooner or later."

"He's just going to keep sending them until Shuhei agrees?"

Hitsugaya brings his arms to his side.

"We're on the verge of collapse," he says seriously (always so serious), "Soul Society needs order again."

_No, _she thinks and unconsciously looks toward the abyss above her, _it needs trust again_.

---

"You know what he told me?"

"Who?"

"Tousen-ta…Tousen."

"No, I wouldn't really know."

"He told me that he didn't regret anything. He told me that he thought the world was bloody and wrecked."

A snort.

"What would he know? He caused half of it."

"That's true I guess."

"…when did he tell you?"

A pause as the fingers around her arms tightens slightly.

"His execution day."

Rangiku nods, though she feels like there's some hidden meaning about it that she doesn't get.

"Ah, how surprising."

---

It is during these endless letters, marked by Yamamoto's legendary stubbornness that he starts to seek her out. Rangiku feels her body flinch in discomfort.

What they had was shallow and unreal and very, very desperate. It is what she hoped would remain so, hoped that it would stop him from asking things of her she could never give.

But he came anyway, destroying all her vain effort in one shy visit.

He asks her to go out drinking. It is nothing special and highly insignificant, but the look in his eyes stops her from turning him down. So they do end up in a bar somewhere in some filthy corner of filthy Rukongai.

The taste of wine running down her throat is slow and virulent like illness. She loves it, even if she does not love him.

They don't speak as they drink and stare at the ghosts behind each other. It is only a couple of shots later that the alcohol begins to loosen their tongues.

Rangiku speaks a garble of betrayal and drinks and smiles. He nods and offers his own babblings of blindness and loyalty and _stupidity_. They don't really know what the other is really talking about, but it helps a little.

The indolent holes in their chests filled lightly, simpering in sake.

---

"Did he say anything to you?"

"Who said anything to me?"

"Ichimaru," his voice is cautious, "On his execution day."

Rangiku's fingers suddenly freeze on his chest.

"What makes you think I was there?" she asks him, tone suddenly distant.

"You were, weren't you?"

A pause.

"Yes," her voice is still cold and blank, "Yes I was."

"Did he," he feels like an idiot for bringing it up, "Did he say anything to you?"

Another pause, stretching like crimson thread.

Then she's giving him a rather jaded smile.

"He told me to look away."

---

Shuhei _hates _Ichimaru Gin. Not the type of hate that is blatant and rough, but the type that takes root inside and cushions him as he goes.

It is a dark, dark hatred like the blackness of the deepest depths of an ocean. Unreachable and unfathomable. It drowns him in it with its frigidity and bitterness and terrifying envy. Until there is a list so long that he can't see the bottom and wonders if there even is one.

He hates him for leaving and returning and wrecking and enjoying every moment. He hates him for following Aizen, the saddest excuse for a man that has ever been.

He hates him for abandoning his lieutenant and making his head bow in shame only to come back just to fucking _die _so that Kira can't even look others in the eye anymore.

He hates him for the men in his Division who had trusted him so blindly and followed him so readily, knowing that he didn't give two shits about any of them.

He hates him for the society that he has forsaken and let crumble away from the hole he has torn inside it.

He hates him for fucking _dying_ and leaving a dilapidated world in his wake which he should have fucking _fixed_.

_And it is not that he regrets Ichimaru's death either, because the bastard deserved it and probably more than just a needle to the heart. He would not have gave it a second thought if everything hadn't suddenly just fallen apart after he was gone. (Off to rejoin Aizen and Tousen in their sick little games). _

But most of all…

Most of all, Shuhei hates him for leaving her.

Because he knows that Ichimaru had transfixed her since the day he had met them. Because he knows that she spends more time wondering what Ichimaru was doing than speaking to him. Because he knows that Ichimaru had caught her long ago and wasn't planning on ever letting her go.

Because he knows that she does not love him or anyone else for that matter, quite like she had loved him.

So he hates him. Hates, _Hates, __**Hates**_.

Because in the end of all his circles of denial and hope and nervousness, he knows that as long as Ichimaru Gin had existed, he is only a replacement and wouldn't ever be more than that.

---

He keeps attempting, like a repetitive cycle or a broken record. Rangiku isn't sure she has ever felt so sorry for one person in her entire life.

He tries with full effort and full will and full love and Rangiku cannot give him half of any of them.

"You and Hisagi seem to be getting along pretty nicely," Hitsugaya comments, almost flippantly, but still cold and gravely serious, "Have you always been this close?"

"What are you talking about, Taichou? I've known Shuhei my whole life." She says, letting the lie come easy like rivers to a lake.

In quite honesty, she did not know Shuhei much at all, and if she didn't want to pull him along, she isn't planning to either.

Hitsugaya looks at her oddly for a moment and he almost looks like he's debating before saying quite flatly, "Funny. I thought it was Ichimaru that you'd known all your life."

It hits her like a bullet to her heart, tearing everything to shreds in its wake. Causing destruction and bruises and endless bleeding.

She stares at her captain with wide eyes of hurt and pain, until Hitsugaya has to look away and feel heavy and regretful.

"You don't know what you're doing to yourself." He manages to mutter, before leaving the room, unable to bear the sight of her anymore.

---

He doesn't know why he keeps trying to win her.

Maybe because somewhere inside him, he is blatantly hoping that she would accept him after too many nights feeling alone and sick with grief.

Maybe somewhere inside, Shuhei is still the naïve boy that had looked up into the blind eyes of his captain and had to pretend every day that he did not worship such power.

"_Oh shit," she moans out, at their peak of ecstasy and he finds his fingers to caress her cheek even at the very tip of their orgasm._

_Until they've hit the roof and stickiness hits their limbs and the sheets and their swords and the floor._

"_Oh shit! Oh God!" her voice is high, but never annoyingly so, "More!"_

And then again, maybe it is something too simple and childish and _stupid_ that he does it anyway.

"_Oh, Gin, more!"_

Maybe it is simply out of spite.

---

Rangiku thinks herself very stupid and very, very mean. She had not seen it coming, even after all those attempted dates and all those attempted kisses and all that attempted hope as he had fucked her nicely.

No, not until it was too late and Shuhei was…

"_I love you. Oh God, I love you_."

It happens one rainy night, where the drops are pittering and pattering. And they undo each other as per routine and sink down into the blankets dryly.

It is then as she licks his lower half that he suddenly wrenches her up and presses himself full on her lips. And before she can scream or hit him or _something_ he is saying it over and over like some twisted mantra.

Rangiku did not remember what her response was. Only that she'd stood up, threw on her clothes, and walked all the way back to her Division in the rain.

But it made little difference, because she knew what she had to do now. Not that it made it any easier to do.

---

He's really done it now.

Shuhei can feel it like a parasite inside his gut, chewing him away. It is the ending that he has predicted and loathed and expected.

Rangiku looks at him solemnly, like she had planned everything out, only to have it fall apart on her, like most things tended to do.

"Shuhei," she stops, swallows a moment then continues, "I can't do it anymore."

And he does not know why, because he's been expecting it, but his mouth springs forth like prey jumping across that narrow trench to safety.

"I'm sorry for saying it. It's fine if you don't love me. I won't say it again." He begs, like a dog for more meat. It's pathetic. He doesn't care.

Rangiku closes her eyes and takes a deep breath.

"I'm sorry." _I'm sorry that I'm like this_.

"It's okay. I don't care. Just," he clenches his teeth, hands forming fists in his lap, "Just _stay_. Stay with me." _I love you._

"You do care though," she says sadly, "You do. And you're hurting because of me."

"No," he's rushing on, "No, I don't care. I'll never care again. I'll even act like him for you. Just tell me how. Show me and I'll do it."

He's desperate and she looks like something inside her is literally falling apart.

_I don't care if I'm a replacement_, he wants to scream_, I love you_.

Rangiku looks like she wants to cry, but there are no tears for her to shed. She shakes her head slowly, "I'm sorry."

And before he can say anything else, she is on her feet and walking away. Shuhei's eyes remain trained to the spot she once occupied; unable to access the strength it took for him to turn his head.

"I told you, you would hate me." she says as she goes, voice shaky.

He hears the door slide open numbly and his mouth forms into a silent 'No' that he cannot push the sound out of, no matter how hard he tries.

She stops though, just outside and looks back at him. He can feel those _beautiful_ crystal eyes lying softly on him.

"You don't have to listen to me, Shuhei, but," she slides on her sandals, "It would be great if you became the Ninth Division Captain. Tousen would not even compare."

Then the door is close, leaving him in the heavy, tight, _merciless_ silence.

---

A few days later, Hitsugaya walks into the office to find her sitting on the couch, playing with her pink scarf with a blank look on her face.

He walks up to her with an arch of his eyebrows, "Shuhei accepted Yamamoto's request to become Ninth Division Captain."

She looks at him dully but says, "That's great."

His eyebrows rise a little higher as he surveys her up and down. Then the realization hits him like a steam engine and there's a very human look of 'I told you so' in his eyes that she doesn't miss.

"Maybe," he says, appearing quite grave again, "Maybe it's time that you started moving on as well."

But one look from his lieutenant says it all.

They hold their gaze for a moment or more, before Rangiku looks away.

* * *

**A/N: Attention! There _will be_ another chapter!**


	2. Drunken Tales: Kira

Searching For Silver – chpt. 2

A/N: Here's the second chapter that I promised like a year ago! XD It's MatsuKira this time, a really possible pairing in my opinion. Especially in my story's circumstances.

Their relationship, unlike the ShuRan one, which was almost completely one-sided, is more reciprocated by Rangiku, mainly because of Kira's connection to Gin, since he's the only thing they had in common.

There's going to be an OC in this chapter too. It's nothing too big, but if you hate OC's or something then please don't read any further.

If not, please enjoy and review like always!

**Disclaimer: **Bleach belongs to Tite Kubo.

* * *

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_Drunken Tales_

_The first time she drank, it was from curiosity. The men in the village that she did not live in, roared over it, fought to blood for a taste of this liquid. So when she does manage a hold of one small bottle, cracked and dirty with mud, she curled in a ball with it and sipped delicately. _

_It's strange to the tongue, setting her throat aflame and into a series of coughs. Its scent was bitter and toxic. The taste was corrosive and a sting rose up from her mouth, to spread to her nose and eyes._

_Pain twitched in her nerves as the world before her blurred in and out of focus. She blinked dazedly for a moment at the bottle in her hand, bewildered and ready to vomit._

_Then long white spider hands wrapped around her shoulders, taking the bottle, cool breath like ice at the nape of her neck. It felt nice against her heated skin and made her want to throw up even more._

"_You don't wanna be drinking these things, Ran-chan," he said, grinning rather sharply at the bottle, "It ain't healthy for ya."_

_He doesn't wait for her reaction as he swiftly smashed the bottle on a rock. The liquid seeped down and spread like cancer upon the dusty ground—shards of dirty glass line the floor. Then with an effortless grace, she's swept into white arms that seem too strong to be the bony limbs that they were. _

_Without missing a beat, he turned to bring them home. She quietly complied as the bitter taste rested against her insides. She leans cautiously against his cold, bony chest. _

_Maybe she's masochistic, maybe she's just crazy, but it still made her feel damn good, not that she said it out loud. _

---

Years later, she can still recall that day, murky and unreal, but there. Lurking and hiding in her mind, just like Gin had been doing all through his life and far into his death.

She swishes the rice wine in her cup, before gulping expertly, lapping up every drop without a spill. Rangiku is no stranger to a drink, especially ones that made her forget.

There is no one anymore anyway. Hitsugaya had tried to stop her twice, before sighing in irritation, turning heel to leave and never tried again. Her friends had also long given up trying to calm her wild drinking habits, after many years of flaunting promises and not one year of following through.

And Gin…Gin is gone.

There is no one left to stop her now. No heart-wrenching looks of disapproval, no cold breath against her skin, no white hands to hold her in. It is just her and her drink and the dead air all around.

She has never felt so alone.

---

News travels fast around the Seireitei, not even its crumbling walls could stop that. The people still spoke of gossip and whispered tidbits.

This one in particular, is about Shuuhei, the new Ninth Division Captain.

She heard the whispers floating in the air, coming in through the cracks of her walls and the lips of shinigami.

They talk about his sudden acceptance after so many months of rejection. They wonder how he will do as the new captain.

They wonder if he will betray them all too, because after all, he _was_ Tousen Kaname's lieutenant, as if that was enough of an excuse to condemn him, to tie him up, to bring the blade down on his neck like his predecessor.

"What do you think of it?" Hitsugaya asked her, on one of those rare days that he was up for conversation and a few answers.

She stares at him blankly.

"Think of what?"

He looks mildly annoyed at her apparent obtuseness.

"About all the rumors some idiot has been spreading around about Hisagi's captaincy."

She continues to stare, now slightly surprised.

"I didn't know you were the type to care about such things, Taichou."

He scowled at her lightly and for the strangest of reasons, looks almost embarrassed.

"I don't. It's just that you haven't brought it up once and I thought I may as well get it over for you now, before you annoy me with it later."

It's a plea as blatant as the frustration in his eyes.

At that moment, she knows she should've been touched. She knows what she should've done.

She should've squealed in delight and hugged him tight to her breasts even though he was already too tall. She should've tousled his spiky white hair and called it fuzzy. She should've happily indulged him and enthusiastically dove in with gusto about the gossip that she should've picked up along the way.

She _should've_. That's what the old Rangiku would've done.

But she doesn't.

"What Shuuhei's decisions are is his business." She says quietly, eyes lowered to the ground.

Rangiku doesn't need her eyes to see the look on her captain's face.

She can imagine perfectly how hard he's struggling to find the right thing to say, to _know _the right thing to say and failing over and over.

Because he already knows there is nothing he can do. Nothing more.

---

Truth be told, she doesn't regret leaving Shuuhei.

He is still a boy in that body of a man, young and desperate, aching for love like he would ache for strength or a fine weapon.

She remembers his helpless looks, so deeply infatuated and vulnerable that it made her ill. She used him blatantly, spinning her threads around him, like a spider would its prey. And he had complied so easily, so willingly, so eager to helpher along.

Until in the very end, he is so entangled, so eaten away at, that she cannot look at him without looking at herself.

Rangiku is not selfless enough to let that be.

She sets him free, unable to bear the ugliness that she has turn him into, and hopes like hell that he'll learn to hate her with all his heart.

She takes care to avoid him. If she catches him walking down the same hallway, she'd make a turn and take the long way. If she had to go deliver paperwork to the Ninth Division, she'd get someone else to do it.

He never tries to seek her out either, for this she is grateful. She wants him to forget her, because she knows he misses her.

Because in truth, she didn't miss him.

Not so much him as to what he could do with his slender hands and sinewy body. What he could do to help her imagine and create for herself the one that she has always wanted and always been denied.

There are nights like that, where she's still awake after twisting and turning, where she's still sober after however many cups, that she wishes he were here. If for nothing else but a good fuck. So that she'd feel the pain for days, the violent kisses would stay sharp on her skin, the bruises would stay on her thighs.

It is on these nights, where the sky is still a churning pit of nothing, that she longs for his touch and his flesh upon hers.

It is on these nights, where she drinks herself half-dead, that she wishes for a way to forget her life.

It is on these nights, where Gin's haori is draped loosely over her shoulders, that she feels so tired, old, _lonely_.

---

Rukongai is still as impoverished as she remembered it. Perhaps even more so.

Rangiku walks slowly down the long alley, hearing the tiniest of moans from sick babies that don't understand and feeling the silent eyes that cling onto her back. There is envy in those eyes, the blackest kind there was, and hatred, more than she can ever comprehend.

She ignores them swiftly, walking pass dusty sheds and smudges of drying blood. The air stinks of death, sweat, and poverty. It brings her back far more than she desires and she thinks that coming to Rukongai to forget wasn't the best idea after all.

She keeps walking anyway.

And she doesn't stop for the angry words whispered among their lips, or the fear lingering behind the walls, not until she has arrived at her destination.

It is a rickety old bar with a patched up tarp, splintering support beams, and a leaky roof that looks like it's ready to cave any minute. A rusting pail and a mop dirtied with vomit is lying vulgarly upfront beside the door, like a welcome mat. She can hear raucous laughter inside, hysterical, glass shattering and fists colliding with flesh.

It is exactly how she left it. She goes in.

There are swarms of men inside, smelly and sweaty, drenched with the scent of rancid beer. Some are laughing, some are crying and some are doing a combination of the two. Unconscious bodies are strewn all over the floor, being stepped over, being stepped _on_.

Two men are beating up each other as their friends watched excitedly from their seat, talking slurred gibberish to one another like they were placing bets. Another man dressed in nothing but filthy rags, is face down on a fragile-looking table, drowning in his own saliva.

Rangiku navigates herself through inconspicuously, barely drawing little more than a careless glance. The men here no longer cared for the pleasure of a women, only the places they could go on rivers of endless beer.

She picks a stool that is decent enough, at least not ready to collapse and plops down ungracefully. She hears a gentle whistle from her left, a scrawny man with big ears and bug eyes. Rangiku sends him the coldest of glares and before looking away. He cackles before downing another shot.

"Yeah, what'll it be?" A rough voice booms, a beefy hand falling like a rock onto the dusty wooden counter.

Rangiku looks up for a moment at the bartender, disbelief in her eyes. He is a large man, with square fists and bulging muscles. He head was bald and he had a scraggly brown beard. He snorts hard before spitting rather carelessly on the floor, revealing a mouth of yellow teeth.

The familiarity comes rushing back to her like a river.

"Don't you recognize me, Danno?" she asked, still a little shocked herself, "It's been a while."

And it really has been. Years, decades, _centuries_.

Danno stares at her for moment like she's lost her mind, before stroking his beard in bemusement. He observes her closely with suspicious beady black eyes and she sits perfectly still.

Then suddenly, as if a door has cracked open his face widens with recognition.

"Well I'll be," he whispered, voice raspy, "It really is ya, girly."

He's smiling as he talking, showing her his crooked teeth, wrinkling the skin near his eyes. He has definitely aged, not by too much, but he still has.

"I told you my name is Rangiku," She replied without thinking, already slipping into the habit, "I'm not a girl anymore anyway."

"Yeah, ya are. At least last I saw ya. That's what I called ya then and it's what I'm sticking to." He said, a hint of fondness hidden behind his deep voice, "Last I heard, you was goin' to the Seireitei, that place out there with the white walls."

He eyes her shihakusho for a moment before saying, "I see ya got in. Good fer ya."

"Thank you," she nods politely.

"Bet it's probably mighty nice inside there, eh? With all them fancy bastards and their fancy swords and words." Danno says, not angrily, but matter-of-factly, "How's living there huh? Tens of thousands better than here?"

_It's about the same_, she thinks, "It's a pretty nice life."

Danno nods, "I still recall that day ya told me ya were ta go. Made sense ta me that they'd choose ya. There was something special about yer power. Thought you was never comin' back."

_I didn't plan on ever coming back_, she thinks.

"But _goddamn_," Danno continues, eyes looking her up and down in appreciation, "You sure grew up alright."

Rangiku thanks him again.

"What brought ya back here anyway? I'm sure that Seireitei's got some mighty fine bars, better booze too. What brought ya back to this shit hole place, girly?" Danno throws the questions at her like rapid-fire, curiosity mingled in his tone.

"I just came to relax, fix a headache," she waved her hand in feigned nonchalance, "Forget a few things."

"Well, ya came ta the right place then," Danno nods like he approves or something, "If this place is good fer one thing it's ta forget."

He asks her what she'll have as a man goes crashing into a table, limp and motionless. The others laugh and point, their drinks frothing.

She goes through a couple of glasses of practically everything he has, demanding for more each time. Danno shakes his head as he passes her another shot of vodka.

"Yer still the same," he says, "Ya still drink like yer stomach's the abyss."

She doesn't answer, just swigs down the alcohol.

But by the time Danno finally mentions Gin, she is still sitting up and not nearly as inebriated as she wanted to be.

"Say now, I know this ain't none of my business, but where's that boy? The one that looked like a grinnin' ghost, who came in 'ere a couple times lookin' fer ya."

For a moment, she wonders if he's joking. Some sick joke.

Could Rukongai really be so unattached to Soul Society's happenings that they didn't even know about Aizen's betrayal, which had been too many years ago for her to remember?

"His name is Gin, Danno," she says, voice slightly slurred, "Or _was_ anyway."

Rangiku takes another big gulp before continuing just for safe measure, "He's dead."

But even as the words are leaving her lips, the stab of pain still comes and she's glad that there's the alcohol swishing around in her gut, softening it ever so slightly.

_Dead._

She doesn't receive half as much reaction as she had been expecting from him though. Danno gapes at her a moment, before his mouth turns into a grim line. His dull eyes stare at her, unblinking.

"Well, I can't say I'm too surprised," he replies, sounding jaded and grave, "The way that lil' bastard was. Was gonna end up destroying 'imself in the end if not someone offin' him first."

He doesn't ask her which one it was, though in a way she thinks it's kind of both.

"Can't say I feel any worse at the news," Danno says, shrugging his massive shoulders and sending her a strange look, "But yer a different story ain'tcha?"

Rangiku didn't reply, her presence at the bar was enough reply already. Danno never mentions the betrayal, or even acts like he knows about it. She doesn't tell him either.

Then the rest of the night went by in a blur, the only memory of Danno talking on and on and on.

Until she's waking in her own bed somehow, with a horrible taste in her mouth and the feel of dried tear trails across her cheeks. Danno's raspy words are flitting through the heavy throbbing of her head.

_Ain't it grand, what love can do to ya?_

_Ain't it fuckin' grand?_

---

She doesn't go back again. There were too many places about Rukongai and Danno that played at her empty places, picked at her past, made her see and think things that she wanted to remain untouched.

And like anything else she doesn't want these days, she runs away from.

Instead, she heads for Seireitei's bars instead. And she has to admit it is a massive improvement.

To say the least, their furniture actually had the capability to stay upright on solid ground.

She exhales loudly after the sake has slithered down inside her. The drinks are better too, she can't deny it.

So she would've just kept going on like this. Drinking everything she could until the wee hours of morning, when she'd somehow drag herself home to purge everything back up, then to promptly pass out, so her captain could scream at her when she woke.

And alcohol didn't even _taste_ that good.

But whom she finds one night instead, is someone who she thought she would never need to speak to again.

Rangiku had came by just like any other time, a night where she would've been getting fucked completely senseless by Shuhei, not that she's really thinking about him anymore. She takes her regular seat and waits for the bartender, also just like any other time.

Only she ends up sitting for almost five minutes straight, and the bartender hasn't even sent her a single glance. He's leaning next to a hunched over man, speaking rapidly in a begging tone.

"Hey!" She yells, annoyed and impatient, "I'd like to order something by next year you know!"

The bartender, a heavy-set, but weirdly timid man, jumps and apologizes profusely while rushing over.

"My deepest apologies, Matsumoto-fukutaichou-dono," he bows again, revealing a growing bald spot among his graying hair to Rangiku, "Thank you for your patience."

Rangiku snorts and decides to let it go.

"Don't make people wait like that all the time, you'll run out of business for sure," the bartender nods feverishly in agreement as Rangiku eyes the man that he had been talking despondently with curiousity, "What were you doing anyway?"

"Oh, I was trying to get him to go home," he shook his head in a hopeless gesture, "He's been here almost every night."

"Since when?" she asks, eyebrows rising at the figure.

The bartender looks thoughtfully for a moment at the ceiling before realizing, "Since the execution about a month ago, ma'am."

But when he looks back down again, Rangiku was no longer there. She was already walking down the counter, toward the moaning man.

She stops within a few inches of him, her shihakusho practically touching his. From here, he is no longer the stupid drunkard that she had previously thought was hogging the bartender and keeping her from her drink.

"Kira, why are you here?"

The man moans again, emerging slowly from the black sleeves that had been covering his head, revealing pale blond hair. He raises his head, slowly with no little amount of effort, to spare her one bloodshot blue eye, like a sea of red.

Once he's seen her towering form over him, a shadowed face against the dim lights, he squints hard before realizing who she is.

"Oh, wow, Matsumoto-san," he slurs horribly, "Long time no see huh?"

He tries to get up after this and she lands a hand onto his shoulder firmly. Rangiku watches him struggle pathetically for a moment, against the strength of her one hand, until he plops down again on his stool.

She sits down next to him, taking him in.

Kira had always been a depressing sort, too devoted, easily discouraged, and constantly reminded her of something that was wilting. He had been fidgety, always despondent over something, and walked around with a dark rain cloud over his head. It was these things that had made him so easy to bend and mold in Gin's bony hands.

But now, despite her disbelief, despite her opinion that she doesn't even think it's _possible_, he looks even worse than before.

He's still willowy, like he'd been as an adolescent, still looks exhausted at the weight of something that only he apparently could see. But his face has hollowed, leaving his high cheekbones to protrude out slightly, his skin pallid and almost sheet white. His eyes were wide and his pupils were small, blood veins running across the white corneas like mazes. His hair has grown longer, several split ends sticking out from the mass of pale yellow. His body is practically skeletal with his thin arms and sharp shoulders.

He looks like a twig, one that has been stepped on too many times.

"You know, I've never really understood," she reaches out practically unconsciously to brush the long bangs away from his eyes, "why you do this to yourself."

Kira chortles, though it sounds more like a sob.

"Why? Well you know, I'm just doin' what I promised I'd never do." Kira raises his cup wobbly to show her, "I'm disobeyin' orders."

Rangiku stares in confusion, though a part of her feels a chill.

"What orders?"

Kira gives her a bleary eye look, one that clearly says _Are you going to make me say it out loud?_ before turning to pour more sake into his dish, though most of it ended up on the counter.

And the way his hands are shaking and his lips are chap and his eyes have dark purple shadows under them, makes floating words pass into her head, though from where she's not sure.

_Taichou, what do I do?_

Then it suddenly hits her like a speeding train, and the chill from before runs all over and turns into full-blown shivering. And she wonders how she possibly could've forgotten something as raw and crippled as the last word Gin had said to the faithful lieutenant he had left behind.

_Live._

Immediately, her heart is thundering wildly, her eyes turn the size of dinner plates.

"Kira," she whispers, frozen, "What are you doing?"

He blinks at her as if nothing is wrong, "Didn't I *hic* just tell you like *hic* a second ago?"

"Kira," she says again, almost desperately, feeling her heart thundering against her breast, "It's _over_. He isn't here." _Not here, or anywhere else._

He's quiet for a moment, swaying lightly on his seat, before saying quite blandly, "I know."

He gulps down the sake, or whatever amount got into the dish, before placing it down so forcefully the bottom of the dish cracked. He sways some more, before gazing at her with his frightening eyes.

"He needs to learn not to play these games anymore," he sounds serious, even with all his slurs, "He needs to know that I'm not some stupid kid that kisses the ground he walks on."

Rangiku feels like sighing, but her lungs don't have the energy.

"You're going to waste away like this, just to disobey his last order?" The words taste a little hypocritical to her tongue.

Kira nods slowly, though he doesn't look like he knows what he's even nodding to.

"How else am I suppose to let 'im know?"

"Kira," she rubs her eyes, and wonders why everyone's always making her say it these days,

"He's dead."

There is a pause after that, a cold one.

Then, Kira pours himself another round, spilling it all before turning to look at her.

"Yeah, but _we're _not."

She spends the rest of the night next to him, painfully sober and contemplating the words that he didn't say—didn't even have to say.

---

It is strange, how everything suddenly fell together, when she'd come that night.

Kira was just having a drink, being harassed by the bartender, suffering needlessly, nothing out of the norm. At least until she came in all her beauty, to watch and understand why he would agonize over a man that seemed to have not given a flying fuck about anything at all.

And then he had ran his mouth dry, telling her things that he doesn't remember no matter how hard he tries. He somehow woke up in his bed in the morning, a nasty taste in his mouth and feeling like his skull was getting cracked in half.

He later promises his third seat that he wouldn't go drinking again, after he learns he'd been throwing up for almost an hour. It was also later, that she came by asking him if he wanted a round with her.

They get skunk-drunk in her office, with bottles and bottles scattered across the table and floor. It is a strangely familiar experience, and he's sure he would've remembered, if only he could first remember how to walk in a straight line.

"Y'know," she says suddenly, loudly, "I think he cared about you."

"He – what?"

"I think he did," she says again, leans her chin on the heel of her hand, "I think you meant something to him."

He almost snorts. _Almost_.

"What makes you think that?"

There's a pause afterward that is so long that Kira almost thought she passed out.

"He said he hated you."

Something sharp drops in his stomach at the words, piercing deep within his insides. His mouth hangs open and he barely resists the urge to curl up on the floor.

He swallows thickly instead, "That doesn't sound too caring to me."

She shakes her head at him, "You didn't know him like I did."

And just those words alone, uttered with such reality, are enough to make him burn vividly with jealousy and shame.

"Gin," she starts, drinks a bit to wash the name down, "He was capable of caring and loving. No, really. It was just the part about getting it _in_ _return _that scared him. He hated things that scared him."

A smile tugged on her lips, drunken and jaded.

"He wasn't as smart as everyone said he was."

Then there's another pause as she pours more sake. Kira wrestles to get his lips to move and once he does, he says the only thing he can to keep himself from crumbling, "I don't believe you."

Rangiku's hand freezes just as the dish's rim is about to reach her wetted lips. She lowers it back down again slowly, before turning to give him an unreadable look.

"He always said you were interesting." she says after a moment and Kira has to wonder exactly how many times his name had come up in their conversations.

"I'm not that interesting."

She sets the bowl down with a loud clank and suddenly starts edging closer, a peculiar look on her face, like she's suddenly seeing him for the first time. Kira knows he should've scooted back, but he doesn't.

Even when drunk, she is beautiful and her skin looks soft and firm. Her lovely orange hair was pouring down her shoulders, glowing against the dark of the room.

She reaches out with long fingers and cups his face; they are cold and rough against his heated skin. He's held there, so he has nowhere else to look but into her drunken cerulean eyes.

They remain like that for a moment, his face in her hands, her hands on his face, and the sake bottles roll across the floor.

Rangiku scrutinizes him with as much focus as she could have in her intoxicated state and then says in a very somber tone, "Yes, you are."

She leans in and crushes her lips to his.

---

It is infinitely easier to touch Kira than Shuhei. She figures it's because he's so similar to her.

They clutch at each other like lifelines, her fingers fluttering all over him as he trembles. He shudders as she reaches between his already bare legs and cups him.

He's awkward and his fingers quiver as he tries for the knot of her hakama. The pallid digits brush lightly against her stomach, frigid to her skin. They flutter back and forth, back and forth, until she finally pushes him aside and undoes it herself.

She barely manages to shuck it off, before she loses herself and crashes into him. Her arms tangle around his back, her forehead pressed up against his neck. His chest is bony, and she trails her fingers over his ribs.

She feel his hesitation against her and she waits. It isn't too long before he twists to his side and lays her down on the office floor, accidentally kicking sake bottles away with his foot.

He hovers over her, staring and she thinks he looks too old.

"You're going to hate me." she manages again, just like she'd done before with Shuhei.

And just like Shuhei, Kira only gives her a hopeful look.

They have sex frenetically. It is a sad kind, where they stretch themselves around each other and notice that they don't fit. Rangiku doesn't mind though.

Because she knows that within the hands that stroke her breasts there lingers Gin's touch, when she kisses his shoulder Gin's fingers kiss back, when she gazes up into his blue eyes, she knows that she's gazing into the same eyes Gin had gazed into so long before.

---

Unlike Gin, who was spontaneous with his visits, who liked to surprise her at times by slipping into her room and stripping himself right there on her bed, they settle into a routine.

They would go about their business at day, avoiding each other like the plague. He never said anything to her in public, never even made eye contact. Even after meetings, where everyone lingered to catch up, Kira would breeze out, not stopping for anyone.

The old Rangiku would've taken extreme offense in such a thing, and would've demanded an explanation. Now, she finds it doesn't bother her too much anyway.

It is only at night that she wants him. When they sneak out together like teenagers, to any bar they had chosen, to get drunk and destroy their livers.

He rambles a lot, mostly about Gin, and she's still kind enough to not stop him.

Then some time later (when they're both nice and tipsy) they stumble away and fuck. It's not always the same area. Sometimes they made it to her barracks, sometimes to his, and sometimes they don't make it at all and just fall against each other at the side of the road.

It is so pathetic and repetitive that it's enough.

---

If there's one thing he's grateful about, it's that he's a quick learner.

It takes only a few days to learn her inside out. He finds out which places she welcomes him and which places will make her groan and push him away. He finds out how many drinks she needs to want to go gentle and how many drinks to want to go violent. He learns what her eyes look like when she's seeing him and what they look like when they're not.

"'ey," she breathes between moans, as he dots the inside of her thighs with kisses, "I jus' wanna let you know, don't expect anything from this."

The words aren't meant to be harsh, or hurtful, but a mere fact.

Kira traces his hands down her legs, legs that belong to his captain, and says, "I know."

---

Rangiku rarely talks about Gin, it is always Kira who had brought it up before. But tonight, it is different.

"Was he a good captain?" she asks suddenly, interrupting him mid-ramble.

"Huh?"

"Gin. Was he a good captain?"

It's strange that she suddenly cares about such things, but to his alcohol-fogged mind, it doesn't mean too much.

"He was," he searches for the right word, only to find there _wasn't _one, "Kind of mean-spirited

She snorts.

"He's Gin."

He nods, "I think he scared the men."

"Did he scare you?"

A pause. A swallow.

"Yes."

"Oh…so was he a good captain?"

"Yeah, he was."

---

It goes on for a few weeks, long enough that no one suspected anything anymore. The bartenders learn their schedule as well as themselves and keep the sake close when they come sneaking in.

They begin to mold into each other like puzzle pieces. It frightens her terribly and she hates it.

So to her great surprise, it is _he _who speaks out first.

"This is stupid." He announces, sounding quite proud of himself for reaching such a conclusion.

She glances at him as he places his drink down, crosses his arms and almost falls out of his seat. And then Rangiku cups a hand over her weary eyes and decides a change.

---

The bartender, Danno, is quite literally the most flippant man Kira's ever met. Everywhere he looks, there are greasy men and flying elbows and splintering wood， yet when they came in, he's sitting at the counter polishing a cracked glass, not a care in the world.

The place is filthy and flooded with drunkards and grime. It is nothing like Soul Society and he welcomes the change wholeheartedly.

"Who's yer friend, girly," he looks suspiciously at him, and Kira felt himself shrinking, "Ain't seen him before."

"His name's Kira Izuru, Danno," Rangiku replies, an unusual tone in her voice, "We're just here to forget."

Kira doesn't know why she doesn't just say to get completely wasted instead, but Danno seems to understand clearly enough. He disappears for a few moments to the back before returning with two big jugs of _something_.

"There ya go Blondie," Danno slams it down before him, some of the froth flying through the air at the motion, "Takes a lot of guts to come drinking with girly here. Literally."

Kira watches the murky liquid in the jug, a swirling dark orange color. It's not the soft clear color of sake in it's delicate porcelain dish.

He grabs the sticky handle and drinks like a dying man.

---

"So, was he your first?" she finally asks and it's so expected that he could answer without even asking. 　

"No."

She gapes at him, like he'd just confessed the biggest secret of his entire life.

"Seriously? I always thought he was."

"Well, he did try a little."

"How can you try _a little_?"

"He started to one time, ripped my clothes off and everything. And I don't know, he just _stopped_. Ordered me to put my clothes back on, like it was all my fault they were off in the first place. Then he just walked away."

A long pause after that.

"So, who _was _your first one?"

"That'd be you, Matsumoto-san."

Another long pause.

"What 'bout you, Matsumoto-san? Was he _your_ first?"

A snort came from her at that. Kira felt a blush run across his face. Out loud, it sounded like a very obvious question.

"Yeah, he was," she replies anyway, her voice hollow, "It was by accident."

"By _accident_?"

She didn't seem like the type to do it by accident.

"It was snowing like hell outside and all we had was this tiny little blanket that didn't even stretch down to our knees. So we just huddled together for a few minutes to wait it out and y'know it just...happened." She takes a moment to listen to the splashes of the liquid in her cup, before continuing, "Not that it was great or anything. We were just a pair of stupid kids, didn't even know what the hell we were doing."

He must've had a very naive expression on, since when she glanced his way, she started laughing prettily.

"Can't imagine it, huh?"

Kira thought back to that one time, when his captain had sprung him from the jail cell.

They'd been walking silently, and he remembered his captain was grinning like he'd just gotten away with something particularly nasty. Next thing he knew, he was splayed against their division wall, his captain grinning horribly at him, roughly yanking his clothes off, his skin scratched open in his rush.

He had been shocked and terrified, but he hadn't fought him. Kira had stood there limply as his captain had stripped him clean.

He might've cried or whimpered or something else equally pathetic and weak. All he knows is his captain had gave him a good hard stare afterwards, before suddenly releasing him.

_No officer of mine gets ta walk around with their object hangin' for the world ta see Izuru._

Then his captain had walked away, as Kira had rushed to pull on his clothes and catch up.

It was over just like that, with nothing at the beginning and nothing at the end. Kira tries not to feel jealous, tries not to _hate _her because she hadn't been rejected.

Because if it had been him, if it had been what his captain would've wanted, he would've given himself without a second thought, he would've let his captain claim him.

And when he looks up into Rangiku's lovely face, he can't help but remember his captain's frowning face that night as well.

He can't help but realize he had not been what his captain had wanted.

---

"Hey, Matsumoto-san."

"Yeah?"

"What was he like?"

"You spent more time with him than me, shouldn't you know?"

"No, I mean like _before_."

"Wha – ohhhh. Well, there's really not all that much to tell."

"He was the same then too?"

"No, that's not it."

Her lips quirk upwards ever so slightly.

"I just can't remember anymore."

---

Danno grins ferally at the mosquito that had been bothering the fuck out of him for the past half hour.

"Not so bold now, are ya?" he gives the tiny crippled creature an ugly sneer, "Why don't ya try buzzin' 'round my ear a second time?"

It wasn't like he was expecting it to reply, but before it hypothetically could, Danno smashed his fist into the wooden counter. The wood made a loud cracking sound on impact and he could feel some of the splinters in his knuckles.

The bum who'd been closest to him nearly pissed himself as he reeled back.

"Fuck, man! What crawled up your ass?"

"Oh shut up and grow some balls you damn fruit." Danno growled back.

The bum mumbles something rude under his breath and Danno was just getting ready to fling mosquito shit into his beer, before a voice interrupts him.

"Um, Danno-san?"

Danno turns around lazily and lets a grin split his face.

"Well, if it ain't Blondie!" he jeers, looking pass him for a moment, "Girly ain't wit' ya?"

Blondie opens his mouth for a moment, as if ready to say something, before changing his mind.

"No, it's just me."

"Oh, I see." he says, deflating somewhat. Rukongai had truly lost something gorgeous when that girl had left.

"What'll it be then?" he asks, Blondie carefully lowered himself into a seat.

"Actually," he wrings his hands for a moment in anxiety, "I was hoping you could tell me a few things."

Danno's eyebrow rose slightly.

"Like what?"

"Well, uh," a blush crawls across his face, "It's kind of a weird thing to ask."

The eyebrow rose a little higher, but remained quiet.

"Um…you've known Matsumoto-san a long time right?"

For a moment, Danno isn't sure who he's talking about, before he suddenly remembers again. He grins widely.

"Course, I do. I've known girly ever since she was 'bout this high." He demonstrates the magnitude of their height difference but hovering his big hand five inches from the counter.

Blondie looks completely relieved for a moment, before looking incredibly uncomfortable again. Blondie sure is a strange sort.

"I don't suppose, you also knew Ichimaru Gin?"

The grin disappears as soon as it had appeared. Danno feels his lip curling at the memory of his slit eyes and unusually high voice. The kid had always unnerved him, sent chills up his spine no matter how polite he was when speaking to him.

"Yeah, I know the lil' bastard," he says, before thinking a moment, "Or I guess I _knew _him. Accordin' ta girly, he kicked the bucket a while ago."

Blondie's face is suddenly ten shades whiter, and looks like he'd just been punched in the gut.

"What's him to ya anyway?" he observes him, "Lover?"

His face turns a little green at that and he manages to choke out, "Captain."

"Ya don't say." he pretends to be surprised, but it really didn't. If there had been something special about girly's powers then Ichimaru Gin's had been downright prodigious.

"Well, if it's somethin' bout Ichimaru Gin yer lookin' fer, best ta ask girly." He says through clenched teeth, just remembering the way he'd wrapped all around her made his blood boil.

Blondie is still trying to work his jaw, so Danno leans against the counter, staring at him dully. When he finally _does _get his mouth working again, the voice that comes out breaks a little in the middle.

"She actually told me to come ask you," he says, "She couldn't remember it well."

Danno felt like sighing. He shouldn't have expected her to, with the way she used to look at that Ichimaru Gin.

"Alright," he says, tossing his rag over his shoulder, "Best ya get comfortable."

---

Kira settles himself down nervously as the massive man before him tosses the rag he had in his hand over his muscled shoulder.

And as he sits and waits for Danno to begin, a few of his captain's words suddenly play across his mind.

_Y'know Izuru, I really hate sad stories._

* * *

A/N: I kind of made up the Danno character, since we know pretty much nothing else about Ran's past except for she lived with Gin. So I wanted added him in, for a third person's view of their past. (He's not gonna be around for too long, if anyone finds him annoying).

There's also more to come with the MatsuKira pairing! I've decided to make a second part to them since they were both the closest to Gin.

I'll try to have it up in a few weeks. Damn procrastination. UGH!


	3. More Drunken Tales: Kira

Searching For Silver – chpt. 3

A/N: Here's the second part of the MatsuKira story. Danno serves his purpose here as the storyteller of Gin and Rangiku's childhood. No worries for anyone who hates his guts and wants him dead. He's not showing up again.

Gin, however, will be showing up soon! So far, he 's only been in the flashbacks and mentioned helluva lot.

Yes, I do realize he's dead. Has that ever stopped anything before?

Please, enjoy and REVIEW!

**Disclaimer:** Bleach belongs to Tite Kubo.

* * *

_More Drunken Tales_

To be honest she came ta me at dusk one day. Yeah, I still can see it like it was yesterday. A ratty little thing she looked, with this wildness about her. Her hair was short and straight see, and she had nothin' but bones in her ripped up yukata.

_She was somethin' ta feel sorry fer that was sure. 'cept fer no one really did. _

_Me neither really. I was younger back then, the absolute shit if ya don't mind me sayin'. Wanted ta follow the crowd ya know, but I couldn't stop starin' neither._

_She looked mighty pathetic, and she locked eyes with me real slow. _

_Scary as hell, her eyes were, I couldn't look away at all._

_And then she simply came up ta me and asked me fer a drink. No, I didn't ask fer her age or any of that shit. You wouldn't either if ya saw the way she took on the booze._

_I stared at her the whole way y'know. Handin' her a new one each time she stuck out her lil' hand. A lot of booze that was, like four big ones._

_And when she was done, she slammed her hand down on this counter here, and said I'd better go get some more, cause she'd be back. She turned off the stool, touched the floor where her feet had been danglin' and where I've seen other shitheads fall on their faces, she just simply walked out. _

_I did go get more after that, and she did come back._

_Did the same whole thing again fer what was it? Oh yeah, fer six nights straight. 'Til I finally just asked her._

_I said, "The hell are ya doin' girly?"_

_And then she looked at me like I just fucked a peanut, before setting her jug down._

"_First off, my name is Matsumoto Rangiku. I don't know why, but it is. So say it like that. And I've also gotta…got this theory goin' on. Ya see, I'm thinkin' that wit' each I drink he's gonna be a step closer ta coming back."_

_Yeah, it was a little screwed up hearin' that from a little girl like her. So I jus' said what I know couldna never been the wrong thing ta say._

_I said nothin' of course._

_She wasn't tellin' anyway._

_It became a routine after a while, ya know? Well, seein' this little brat crawling in with all the other rubbish. She drank a lot, didn't say too much._

_Which was fine fer me, since most of the wasted bastards talked like they hadn't fer all their lives. It was fucking annoying ta have ta sit there listenin' to their little sob stories, because why the hell would ya wanna hear your own story talked back to ya?_

_Well anyway, she said nothing right? And she came in every night like a ghost, with all the rags and dirt and bloodstains. _

_She said she was waitin' fer someone, but it'd been practically a week already, so I finally just said ta her._

"_It's been a week, girly."_

_And she looked at me funny, with her big dull blue eyes and said, "I know."_

"_Whoever yer lookin' fer, I ain't sure they're comin' back."_

_Then girly placed a hand on her head like it hurt and looked really tired._

"_He will," she said, lookin' at something over my shoulder, "He always does."_

_Then the next night, she didn't come back. Or the next one. Or the next one. Or the next one after that._

_And I thought…well I don't really know what I had thought. Probably she got eaten by a Hollow, killed, wandered off with all the others that finally snapped after livin' here so long._

_Don't ask me why. _

_I never really thought whoever it was came back ta her. Hell, I hadn't even been sure he was real. I would've just fucked the thought and gone on. Hey, that's life Blondie. _

_Until one night, she came back._

_Only she was different ya know, came runnin' in, with her hair bouncing, her eyes shining, and a big white smile on her face. Everythin' bout her seemed newer, she had curves, her chest was bigger, her yukata was different and without a rip._

_She glowed._

_Don't look at me like that. I ain't into kids or any of that shit._

'_Sides, she called over her shoulder, "Gin! Hurry up!"_

_That was a serious turnoffer anyway. Dammit, I said I ain't into kids! Stop givin' me that ugly look!_

_So, she called right? No one ever really did pay her much mind, but I was still watching._

_And through the door came this kid that froze away all the warm tinglies that girly had brought in a second before._

_He was pale, well I spose that's an understatement. Kind of like snow, only whiter. There isn't much that's whiter than snow, but he was. And he had weird hair…it was silver, like an old geezer's._

_His yukata was swallowing him, I could see the bones juttin' from his skin. The kid looked like a walking skeleton._

_A skeleton that grinned a lot. With his eyes closed._

_He strode in slowly, grinning at the ceiling, like he was lookin' fer a weak spot. I know it don't make sense, but it freaked me out._

_Girly, on the other hand, was looking at him with a smile softer than cotton._

"_This is where ya have been going, Ran-chan?" he said, voice crawlin' around on the ground like a snake, "Ya went drinkin'?"_

_He arched one slender silver eyebrow at her and girly blushed a deep red. And she squirmed a minute, lookin' uncomfortable while that little bastard stood there and watched her._

"_Well," she said after a few seconds, "It's not my fault you're always away! I get bored by myself all the time!"_

_Then girly crossed her arms and pouted, looking very cute. _

_But all that kid did was sigh careless-like and grin._

"_Alright, alright. It's my fault. I guess we can have a drink since we're 'ere anyway." He said, like pressin' a button on her mood, since girly was suddenly smilin' again._

_And that's when girly came runnin' up ta me. Her eyes were all shinin' like water as she talked._

"_Hey Danno, two jugs okay?" she asked all cutely._

_And I said, "Ya got someone wit' ya today girly?"_

_She nodded again, smiling, before callin' over the skeleton kid. He drifted over, like he had no feet. He was still grinning, but I could tell he was gettin' bored fast._

_Of what, ya ask? I don't know, you knew him better didn't ya?_

"_He's Ichimaru Gin," girly had said, grabbing his skinny elbow and lookin' at him, "Gin, this is Danno."_

_And the kid said nothin' fer a minute. Just grinned. Hell__** yeah**__, that was scary as shit. _

_Until he finally said, "Thanks fer keepin' Ran-chan company while I was gone, Danno-san."_

_His voice was high and polite, sending chills all over my skin. Then he gave me this big bow, where his forehead touched his knees, and pretty much said he was fuckin' with me._

_No one fucks with me, Blondie, remember that. And I would've punched his lil' bony face in, if girly hadn't been there._

_Instead, I said, "She can come anytime you're gone doin' whatever the hell it is ya do."_

_And lil' bony bastard or not, his grin grew sharp, grew dangerous. It was the first time, I realize that inside Ichimaru Gin, there was somethin' else. Somethin' that knew things. Bad things. _

_The thing inside looked like it was gonna impale me with his bare hands or something._

_That is 'til girly cut in, "Don't get mad at Danno, Gin. If you'd just tell me where you're going all the time then I'd be able to go with you."_

_She placed 'er small hand on his shoulder and he softened like a tamed stray. _

_They kept comin' fer a while after that. I ain't sure when I began ta notice how smitten girly was with that Ichimaru Gin. But it got pretty obvious after a while. _

_The way she looked at him while he was chuggin' his drink, like it was the prettiest thing she'd ever seen. How her face glowed when he grinned all creepy at her._

_I didn't get it at all. A pretty thing like her with him? She deserved better, not that it was really any of my business ta say._

_I jus' couldn't stand that Ichimaru Gin, how he acted so fuckin' thick, when he knew exactly how she felt. A guy like him didn't deserve ta be recievin' love, much less the amount girly was sendin' his way._

_Like I said, it wasn't any of my business. It was jus' that time can make ya fond of people. Especially girly._

_So I let him have it, while girly had gone out back ta get another keg of booze._

"_I think ya should stop draggin' her around already," I declared, narrowing my eyes at him, "I ain't even sure what it is she sees in ya, but you should stop screwing around with her."_

_And that Ichimaru Gin arched an eyebrow again, had the fuckin' __**gall **__ta act confused while smirkin' his face off._

"_I'm sorry, Danno-san. I ain't sure what yer talkin' about."_

_I leaned in closer, teeth clenched, "Ya know exactly what I'm sayin' you little shit."_

_The smirk grew. And I remembered again and again how much I hated that little bastard._

"_Sorry, pretty sure I don't."_

_And I kinda lost it when I heard the smugness. My fist came down so hard on the wood that it cracked and I could feel it slicin' open my bottom knuckles._

"_YES, YOU FUCKIN' DO!"_

_Then there was this silent moment, that thickened the air to mush and shut up the drunkards faster than any hose could ever do. That Ichimaru Gin, gave me the coldest and most unimpressed look that I'd ever seen on a guy._

_Then suddenly, he started smilin' again, looked at me like I was an old friend._

"_I was jus' kidding, Danno-san. Why ya so serious all the time?"_

_And he was actin' like it all meant nothing, like it was the smallest thing that could ever be talked about. I clenched my teeth, hard._

"_There's only one thing I want right now," he said, eyes like crescents, "And it ain't her."_

_You didn't hear that voice, Blondie, but it was cold. _

_It was like bein' hit with a pillar of ice and then stabbed with a metal rod. I never did find out what he wanted, but the hungry way his face looked made my hairs stand on end._

"_I'm thinkin' when I get it," he said, hand tight around the handle of his booze, "I'll do somethin' about her."_

"_Ya can't expect her ta wait fer that," I growled, ready to bring my bloody fist up again, this time ta smash his face in, "She ain't gonna follow ya around forever."_

_This part's weird. It was the only time I can recall seein' anything half-way human on that little shit's mocking face._

"_She will," he said, lookin' a little scared, a little sorry, "She always will."_

_A few nights later, girly came in. And that Ichimaru Gin wasn't wit' her._

_She looked tired again, and wasted even when she hadn't had any yet. I set a big jug in front of her and she stared at it like it was somethin' foreign._

'_Til finally I asked, "The lil' bastard gone again?"_

_And girly nodded slowly, like it hurt, "Yeah, he left last night."_

_There was this pause and then…_

"_He went to the Seireitei."_

_It didn't surprise me too much. Only shinigami could be impressed by cruelty like his. But the way girly said it, like she thought she still had a chance. I couldn't handle somethin' like that._

"_Ya ain't gonna follow 'im are ya, girly?" I asked, soundin' a lil' desperate, "He ain't worth it."_

_And girly wrapped her hands around the jug slowly, "I know, but he's all I have."_

_At that time, I ain't sure why, but I jus' wanted ta keep her away from him. That Ichimaru Gin couldn't give her something he didn't even have. I was ready ta say what was needed._

"_He doesn't love ya," I finally said, hearin' the pity in my own words._

_And to my surprise, girly brought her hands up ta her head again and scrunched her eyes shut tight._

"_I know," she whispered, ta me I think, but maybe not, "I know that already."_

_And that was that. _

_Another two nights later, she came in and said she was ready ta leave. Ready ta leave and never come back. I didn't stop her. _

"_Thanks." She said, without really sayin' fer what._

_Then she walked out, her small body disappearin' into the dark, without even a single shot. She followed him fer a good while._

_I'm not sure if Ichimaru Gin ever did do somethin' about it either._

_Guess it don't matter now, does it?_

_She can't follow him where he is. It's not like he's gonna come back either. I don't know. _

_It's just all a lil' sad, don't ya think?_

_---_

The next time he touches her, he's gentler than he's ever been. She hates him for it, but Kira can't bring himself to care.

She thinks he's being shy and tries to push him on, steadily almost desperately. She still wants him to hurt her.

Kira feels more sorry for her than he ever did for himself.

---

Rangiku knows that she isn't a hateful person. She tries to be forgiving, tries to be fair, and tries to never hold grudges that don't matter.

But now she's drunk and tired and a few centuries too old, she hates Kira unreasonably so.

She hates him because he's so timid. She hates him because he's so clumsy. She hates him because he's just _not_ Gin.

Kira touches her gently and in return she shoves him away. Rangiku hates him like a snake would hate a bird, who looks down at it with pity from up in the sky.

And Kira knows it, but keeps denying her all the violence and coldness and floating memories anyway. Because he's sorry, because he's guilty, because he's pushing all this pity for himself onto her now that he's finally found someone a little more abandoned.

She hates him for that too, though in the end of the full circle, the only person she could ever truly hate was herself.

---

"Did you love him?" she asks, the next time he is too gentle for her, and they end up sitting five feet apart staring at the walls, sober and sexless.

He gives her a very weird look, like it was the dumbest question that's ever flown into his ears.

Or maybe not, since that was what Gin use to look like at times. Not Kira, not kind-hearted Kira.

"No," he finally says, without casting her a glance, "At least, not the way you did."

---

In a way, Kira supposes he isn't much different from his late captain. He never loves, he obsesses.

And Kira is obsessed with devotion.

It started after his parents died, leaving him alienated in a world of people who killed to save and saved to kill. Back then, he just wanted to make their final wish come true.

He just wanted to die trying to make them happy, so that when he joined up with them again a few centuries later, he can say he tried his best.

Only, he never planned on succeeding.

He never planned on meeting Abarai Renji and Hinamori Momo and Aizen Sosuke and definitely _not_ Ichimaru Gin.

If Aizen had been one side of a coin—warm, kind, telling everyone there was something special about them all, then his captain had been the other—cold, mean, knowing most of them would die young and smiling whenever he was right.

And while most had kept their eyes on the warmer side, the one facing the sun, Kira had only eyes for the silver shadow that stood juxtaposed to Aizen's side.

His captain had returned those dubious looks with a sharp grin. So when he finally ended up at his side, Gin knew exactly how to use him. Kira let him gladly, proved his devotion like he needed to.

"_I would die for you_." He used to say, whenever his captain had asked.

That was all he ever had to do. Ask.

He would've loved his captain if his captain had asked. He would've betrayed the world if his captain had asked.

Not that he ever did.

"_I bet you would_," his captain would say back_,_ grinning,_ "I really do."_

---

They attempt sex a few more pathetic times, before she finally just lets it fall. She rummages blindly through her drawer for her hidden bottle of sake, cursing all the way.

Kira watches her as untouched brushes, still packaged ink stamps and crumpled documents due months before come flying out.

"You keep sake in your office drawer?"

"Shit—yeah, for some reason, it's the only place Taichou never looks."

Kira nods at that, even though she can't see it.

She emerges victorious a few seconds later, a tiny bottle of sake clutched in her whitening hand.

"Let's get wasted."

Kira pulls on his shirt all the way before telling her, "I'm sorry."

Rangiku returns his sympathy with a stare without disaparagement.

"Not as sorry as I am."

---

"Do you ever think you still feel him around?" he asks her, not that he really wants to know. The thought of his captain wandering around the division halls unnerves him.

She contemplates his question carefully. She thinks of the haori that still carries his scent and the way she can imagine how exactly he would fit inside it.

She thinks of the random words he had said that popped into her mind at times. Spontaneous things like, _"It needs some salt" _and _"That was kind of stupid_" and _"Don't get mad, I was jus' havin' some fun."_ It sends chills up her spine to hear his lilting voice in her mind, filled with malice and selfishness.

She thinks of Shuuhei, who she had sculpted into Gin using loneliness and desperation as her tools.

She thinks of Gin's grinning face, the shape of his crescent eyes, the silver of his hair, and wonders what it'd be like to see it on her ceiling or in her mirror or in the water of her sink.

"No," she says and hopes she doesn't sound haunted, "Not really."

---

It is usually at the beginning of the end that Kira realized it would end. And when he realized, he was usually drunk.

There were never any exceptions.

"Y'know," he said to her, swaying a bit, "I still hear his voice sometimes."

She hiccups slightly and gives him a stern look.

"Hearin' voices is a sign of insanity ya know."

Kira laughs, because that means they're both insane. The irony is enough that he's soon rolling around on the floor, clutching his stomach, and tears gathering at the edge of his eyes.

Rangiku watches him with unsteady cerulean irises. He isn't sure when then ended up switching places like this and that somehow makes it even more hilarious.

"Then we're all crazy right?" he asks, in between labored breaths, his abdomen painful from laughter.

Rangiku's face is long.

Kira doesn't need her to say anything to know that they'll both be crazy by themselves soon enough.

---

"Do you miss him?" Kira asks her, and can't help but notice he's been asking a lot of questions lately he doesn't care for the answer to.

Rangiku raises herself up slightly from the tangle of orange hair she lay in. She gives him a once-over and it appears as if she might cry.

She doesn't though. Not Rangiku. Not heartbroken Rangiku.

"No." She replies, and tastes the biggest lie of her life inside her mouth.

---

On their final night, or at least the finale they refused to declare of a relationship they refused to acknowledge, they drink themselves half-dead.

"We knew this was gonna happen," Rangiku keeps saying, over and over again, "We knew it was gonna fail."

Kira nods vigorously, terrified that if he didn't agree then everything she said would be disspelled instantly.

"I mean, like," she paused to swallow, "We have almost nothin' in common. The only thing we ever really talked about was Gin right?"

And it clicked in funny for the both of them at the exact same time.

The Tenth Division office echoed with rancorous laughter, bitter and empty and hopeless. They spread their palms up towards the bright shade of light above them, watching as their limbs shook from their laughter.

It's exhausting and stupid, but eventually they calm if ever so slightly.

Rangiku's forehead is practically touching the floor as she lay eagle-spread.

"He was right ya know, always had been," she says to him, as she reaches her limit, "You _are_ interesting."

Then she let her head drop as she fell into a snoring heap.

"I keep tellin' you, Matsumoto-saaaan," he drawls, unaware, "I'm not that interesting."

Then he lays himself down on his side right next to the couch and lets the alcohol take him back to the very beginning.

---

The next morning, they wake up with their skulls falling apart and deep purple under their eyes.

Kira still manages to straighten up, run a few fingers through his hair, not without any groans and grumbles.

All Rangiku manages is to crawl from the floor up onto her couch.

There's a silence except for the pounding of their heads before Rangiku asked:

"Do you regret this?"

Kira sits silently on the floor, continuously running his fingers through his hair, before he finally casted her a glance with his stark eyes, smudged with purple.

"The only thing I regret," he said, voice raspy, "Is failing to show him, how easily we can live on."

She nods and says, "What a damn shame."

Then he pulled himself to his feet, with no little amount of effort. He takes large, uneven steps to the door.

_Don't come back_, she says silently, _please_.

_I won't, _he hears her anyway, _I promise._

She feels almost grateful, almost relieved as the sliding door opens with creaks louder than cannons. A strip of blinding sunlight comes slithering inside.

Rangiku places a hand over her eyes for a minute, seeing red, before opening them again.

But by then, he is already gone.

---

Kira is a man that kept his promises.

And soon, Rangiku is alone again with nothing but her aching reflection.

Hitsugaya gives her another look, but there are no words to go with it this time around.

They both knew what came next anyway.

* * *


End file.
